


Frost and Flame

by spirkybubbles



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, M/M, Original Character(s), Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 00:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16230515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spirkybubbles/pseuds/spirkybubbles
Summary: The love between a half-fire elemental pirate and a grumpy half-ice elemental sylvan bard. Odd, but no less sweet.





	Frost and Flame

**Author's Note:**

> Lanreth Ereoros is my dnd elven bard.  
> Red Seabury belongs to a close friend.

Soft lips leave frost behind when they gift kisses to heated cheeks, giggles erupting when the crimson stubble scratches against tan skin or when said kisses are returned with the ferocity of a blazing inferno.  
Small hands made for artistry cramping at the end of the day, each knuckle and sinew worried tenderly between worn yet strong fingers in an inexperienced massage that emenates love and warmth, kisses pressed to new calluses. He falls asleep to such sensations, and wakes cozy and without pain, a hand at the small of his back pulling him close. 

The first time he cries in front of Red is the first and last time he dreads being abandoned for showing too much softness, laying in the blood splattered dirt and cowering as he bandages the gash on his thigh with a scrap of fabric. His eyes well with tears and sting as they threaten to fall, and he fights them back with the determination of a spartan until hands firmly cup his cheeks and force his crinkled face upward and out of the dust, wiping away grime and tears alike with tender swipes of the thumb, warm lips pressed to his forehead slowly. The gesture is so gentle that it hurts, and he picks himself up out of the gore and brushes the soil from his torn clothing, paling when his hands smear with layers of thick carmine blood that isn't entirely his. A familiar and unsettling old sight come back to haunt him, his vision bleeding scarlet. He shies away from any further touching until they retire for the night, and feels the ichor drip between his fingers long after it's been washed off.

However, once he's snuggled up against his mate in their tent, soft puffs of breath rustling his long hair and the blankets so warm and smelling of his beloved, he calms - and realizes that Red sees him no differently than before. There's no new distance between them. He nestles closer and gives a quiet purr. His hands feel clean.


End file.
